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Shaman Stone Soup takes you on the journey of an atheist who discovers Native American spirituality and becomes a healer for friends, family and clients. The author shares her personal stories that demonstrate how spirit guides, angels and enlightened beings can answer calls for help through miracles. You will read about the matronly ghost who overstayed her welcome, the spirits of ancient wise men who offered advice and a miraculous cure from cancer for a friend, the man who got out of his wheelchair to go hunting and fishing, a vivid dream and later chance meeting of a pastor who needed guidance, the metamorphosis of a schizophrenic, the loving afterlife contact from her mother who died unexpectedly, and many other stories.
An engineered virus kills most of mankind. Those who survive are controlled from behind the scenes by a dark force that has waited millenniums for global domination. Gone are our scientists, leaders, military commanders, teachers, engineers, parents and children—the only ones left standing are those useful to the agenda.
To maintain order, the United Nations organization dutifully steps in, but its leaders are not what they appear to be. The trusted UN uniform causes each country’s army to hand over its leash. All of the world’s soldiers follow the commands of the New World Order without a single shot being fired. The devious plan unfolds perfectly—with one exception.
The virus brings about an unexpected DNA mutation among a handful of Earth Sentinels, causing them to develop supernatural abilities. Those impacted are: Zachary Thompson, a young American adapting to the Amazon Jungle alongside his indigenous wife and children; Haruto, a Miko in Japan, who lives with her lover, Billy White Smoke; and Tom Running Deer and Cecile Two Feathers, rebellious Native Americans who reside on a reservation in Canada. While their transformative changes unfold, Bechard the fallen angel tries to regroup his fellow Earth Sentinels so they can save mankind.
During their perilous mission, the Earth Sentinels uncover secrets about mankind’s origins, ancient astronauts, genetic engineering, the illuminati, and the lies that have been woven throughout religion and history.
Sometimes Our Greatest Tragedies Offer Our Greatest Lessons
Savannah Watkins is haunted by a dream of losing her family in a tragic car accident, which causes her to vacillate between two lives—before and after the car accident. As she struggles between realities, Jesus Christ suddenly appears to offer her unorthodox guidance. He accompanies her to the grocery store and for walks on the beach while answering some of life’s toughest questions.
Dreams of Heaven (2017) takes you on a fantastical journey with Jesus, who leads the way through an alternate interpretation of his ancient teachings and applies them to one of our worst nightmares—being separate from the ones we love.
“Every bit as telling and accurate as “Animal Farm” and “Fahrenheit 451”. — Mark Champion, OurHealingMatters.com
“Quick paced with a powerful message.” — Greg Kincaid, New York Times Bestselling Author
Intriguing blue doors and ethereal mists beckon people who are devastated by mankind’s greed, corruption and indifference, such as Zachary, a young man whose family’s organic farm is ruined by fracking; and Haruto, a Miko living in Fukushima, Japan, where the nuclear meltdown is raging out of control; Mahakanta, a cotton farmer in India, who used GMO seeds with devastating results; Amazonian tribe members, Conchita and her father, Pahtia, who are fighting against the intruders illegally tearing down their rainforest; and the Bear Claw First Nation Tribe that is dealing with an unstoppable oil spill, which is ruining their traditional hunting grounds. After stepping into another dimension, they find themselves face to face with the mastermind Bechard, a fallen angel and the Master of the Elements.
Together, they use supernatural powers to grab the world’s attention, demanding that the world’s leaders implement the changes…or else. But as the events unfold and governments retaliate, the characters are forced to question their motives, fight for their lives and listen to their hearts.
Genre: Visionary Fiction, Contemporary Fantasy (2014)
“Unique and captivating, we need only to listen in order to learn her subtle, yet powerful spiritual message.” —Awareness Magazine
What if you didn’t believe in God and miracles started to occur?
Shaman Stone Soup (2010) takes you on the journey of an atheist who discovers Native American spirituality and becomes a healer for friends, family and clients. The author shares her personal stories that demonstrate how spirit guides, angels and enlightened beings can answer calls for help through miracles. You will read about the matronly ghost who overstayed her welcome, the spirits of ancient wise men who offered advice and a miraculous cure from cancer for a friend, the man who got out of his wheelchair to go hunting and fishing, a vivid dream and later chance meeting of a pastor who needed guidance, the metamorphosis of a schizophrenic, the loving afterlife contact from her mother who died unexpectedly, and many other stories.
The inspiration for Dreams of Heaven came to me in a vivid dream. As a healer, I’ve learned to pay attention to vivid dreams, which are a rare occurrence, but always offer profound answers and insights. In this particular dream, Jesus Christ appeared and showed me four scenes. I knew when I awoke that I would write Dreams of Heaven. But why feature Jesus Christ? I’m not Christian. Although I do confess that Jesus is always a part of my shamanic healings (shamanism is a Native American practice) where he appears as a spirit guide. I suppose a Christian would say that Jesus comes to me in a focused prayer, but alas, enough with the labels.
So, one month after the dream and during a winter holiday break, I began to write. But how do you write a story that is not your own? I had no idea how the dream’s scenes would come together or how the story would end. In fact, I couldn’t even conceive of a good ending.
During the writing process, I sat quietly before each session and prayed for inspiration, then typed whatever came to me. (It soon became obvious that it was also a lesson in learning to listen to the Divine Voice, and releasing the fears that prevented me from publically stating unorthodox teachings.) The story began to weave itself between two realities. In one, a dream of a car accident haunts the main character, Savannah Watson. In the other, she deals with the tragic aftermath. As Savannah struggles with the prophetic dream, Jesus appears and speaks to her. He goes grocery shopping with her, and for walks on the beach, answering her questions (even if she doesn’t always think so).
Unlike many novels and movies that offer generic and vague answers, in Dreams of Heaven, Jesus offers specific messages — but they are given through the interpretation of love, leaving fear and judgement at the door. Messages that many Christians would say dispute the Bible’s teachings, but do they?
The church has offered an interpretation for millenniums, but interpretations can vary. Who is right? I’m not sure it matters. We all have a path to follow, and we choose the one that is right for us. At one time, Christianity was right for me. However, in my early 20s, I lost my faith for a decade before my belief in God and Jesus returned, but without the religious connotations. God without religion? What a novel idea (no pun intended). Which means, this book’s message isn’t right for everyone. But for those looking for answers about redemption without judgement or condemnation, this book is just right.
“Dreams of Heaven compels you to examine your beliefs about life and death. You will be drawn to read every page.” —Reverend Emile Gauvreau, Center for Spiritual Living Cape Coral
“Dreams of Heaven is a beautifully crafted story that centers on the dream/reality of a terrible family tragedy and the main character’s sudden ability to see and converse with Jesus Christ. Heartfelt and deeply moving, the book is like an epiphanous dream probing the mysteries of birth, life, and death. It is one of those gems of spiritual literature that becomes a permanent fixture in our lives, always remembered as a gift for that special friend with whom we wish to share our most deeply felt beliefs.” — Hal Zina Bennett, Ph.D., Best-selling Author of Write From the Heart and Follow Your Bliss
Page Count: 150
Publisher: Blue Gator Inc.
Publication Date: August 5, 2017
Savannah bolted upright in bed, shaking from a bad dream. It took her a moment to realize she was safe in her own bedroom. Relief flooded over her, but her heart kept pounding. She glanced at her husband, who was sound asleep, before getting up, grabbing her robe from the foot of the bed.
She left the bedroom, heading down the dark stairwell, reaching the living room decorated with rattan furniture that mimicked the tropics. The overhead palm-leaf fan slowly spun.
Savannah pulled open the sliding glass door. The sea breeze rushed past her, rustling the vertical blinds. She stepped outside, walking across the deck. The ocean roared. She stood by the railing, watching the waves ebb and flow under the moon’s glow. The salty mist settled over her, layer by layer, slowly creating a vaporous cocoon. Savannah didn’t mind the dampness. It made her feel connected—like an old house being overcome by the elements, metamorphosing back to its natural state. In the distance, thunder rumbled. A storm was brewing.
Someone opened the sliding glass door, startling Savannah, who turned to see her husband, Steve, coming towards her.
He reached her side, asking, “What are you doing out here?”
“Just getting some fresh air.”
Steve didn’t believe her. “Something wrong?”
Savannah appreciated his concern, however, thinking about the nightmare sent shivers down her spine. Not wanting to talk about it, she replied, “Oh, nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
She faced the water to avoid his gaze.
Steve kept looking at his wife, hoping she would confide in him. When she didn’t answer, he became concerned, asking, “What is it? Do you feel okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. It was just a bad dream. That’s all.”
“A dream? What was it about?”
“You don’t want to hear about it. Trust me.”
“I can handle it.”
“Fine. I don’t remember the first part, but the dream began with a car accident.” She was surprised at the intensity of her emotions as she recounted the details. Her breathing grew labored. “All of us were in the SUV. There were sirens and ambulances everywhere. The worst part is…” she hesitated to say, “you and the kids were killed.”
Steve’s gut tightened. His wife’s fear was contagious. He fought against it, reminding himself, It was just a dream. His rational mind took control and he calmly responded, “We’re all fine. Like you said, ‘It was just a dream.’”
“I know,” she agreed, but truthfully she was worried the dream was more than that. She feared it was a premonition.
Steve consoled her, “I once read that when you dream about someone dying, it really means your relationship is changing. Maybe you’re afraid of the kids getting older and leaving the nest.”
She replied, “Maybe,” even though the explanation didn’t feel right to her.
Her husband wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. Together, they watched the indigo waves pitch to a primordial rhythm.
Savannah wanted to claim this moment, hoping that somehow she could stop the approaching black train that bore an ominous warning. In the distance, she heard it rumbling down the tracks. A long shrill whistle drifted through the air, coming closer and closer until it crossed the divide between realities, whispering in her ear, “I’m coming.”
“Dreams of Heaven” can be found at local bookstores and online retailers:
On a sunny August morning, the Thompson family was busy harvesting their organic crops. Marilyn and her husband, Larry, had retired early from their stressful jobs in New York City and bought this quaint farm in Pennsylvania to get back to nature, pouring half of their life savings into the venture.
Marilyn rested while wiping the sweat from her face with a handkerchief. She stuffed it back in her pocket while looking out over the rolling hills, admiring the fertile farm beds filled with tomatoes, radishes, green beans and squash. All of this organic produce would be sold at a local farmers’ market. Bees buzzed and butterflies floated over the late blooms. She watched her 17-year-old son, Zachary, select ripe tomatoes, setting them in a wagon. He had grown a few inches taller than his father, but he had her sandy-blond hair and fine features.
Car tires scrunched over the crushed limestone driveway, coming to a stop. Dust floated around the tires. An older couple got out of the vehicle, standing side by side looking solemn.
Marilyn, Larry and Zachary waved at their neighbors, Burt and Nancy Wheeler, who returned the greeting, but remained where they stood. Something was wrong.
Larry said to his wife, “This can’t be good…looks like their best milk cow died.”
Marilyn replied, “Shhh…this might be serious. Come on.”
The Thompsons walked out of the field, passing the red barn that housed the milk cow. The chickens scratching in the yard scurried away clucking.
The neighbors met them halfway.
Larry shook the man’s hand. “Good morning.”
Burt said, “Morning. Sorry we didn’t call first, but we’ve got something important to tell you.”
“This would be better sitting down.”
The Thompson family suddenly felt a sense of dread. Larry responded, “Sure, this way.” He led his neighbors through the back door of the centennial farmhouse. They entered the kitchen, taking their seats at the long plank table. Marilyn asked the neighbors if they would like something to drink, but they shook their heads.
Burt started the conversation, “We’ve been having problems with our cows, one died, and a few had stillborn calves. We heard other farmers had the same thing, so we tested our well and lake. And well…” Bert found it difficult to say the words, “The results showed toxic chemicals and methane gas.” The dairy farmer became visibly upset, his voice wavering as he said, “We’ve lived here for four generations and never had a problem with our water before they started fracking.”
“How can that be?” Marilyn asked, “They aren’t even drilling close to us!”
“Yeah…well,” answered Burt, “we did some research and found out that Pennsylvania allows horizontal drilling, so a rig can be a mile or more away, but drill right under your house without your permission, if you don’t own the mineral rights.” He rubbed his forehead, noticeably stressed. “We own ours, and told them, ‘Thanks, but no thanks.’ We didn’t want their money. The farm’s enough for us. But obviously someone near us either took the money or didn’t own the rights.”
“But where’d the chemicals come from?” Larry asked.
“The fracking water. They pump millions of gallons of water, laced with chemicals, so they can extract more gas out of the shoal. Then they have the nerve to tell us it’s all suctioned up, but common sense tells ’ya it can’t be, not all of it. And if they hit an underground stream or aquifer, the contaminated water can flow for miles.”
His wife confided, “We plan on moving our cows to my cousin’s place in Dauphin County. We can’t in good conscience sell the milk. But what’ll we do? Farming’s all we know.” She bit her bottom lip, trying not to cry.
Burt changed the subject, delicately asking the Thompsons, “Have you tested your water? I only ask because our land butts up to yours.”
The awareness that the organic farm might be ruined settled over Marilyn like a dark fog. How can we claim the produce is organic if there are chemicals in the water? How can we sell it at all? She contemplated these troubling questions before quietly saying, “We didn’t give in. We refused to let them test our land and still…” she trailed off. Zachary put his arm around his mother to comfort her.
Mahakanta Suresh stood at the edge of his field staring at the withered cotton crop. His farm had been handed down through many generations, providing not only a living, but a good way of life in India’s Cotton Belt. He leaned heavily on his hoe, reminiscing of a time long ago when his father had danced with his mother after a bountiful harvest. The entire village had prospered that year, celebrating late into the night with food, spirits and music. His father had stepped away from the festivities and sauntered over to him, holding out a velvety fig he had picked fresh from a banyan branch. Mahakanta plucked the sweet, earthy tasting treat from his father’s weathered hand, watching him laugh heartily, drunk from the free-flowing wine.
Mahakanta savored his childhood memory before it faded, leaving him to face the devastation in front of him. He could have survived the misfortune of one bad season, but alas, last year’s crop had also failed. Now there was no money left to buy new seeds. He would lose his farm and house to the moneylenders who had extended him credit.
He could no longer face his wife and three children, who silently ate their dinner each night while hopelessness filled the air. His family once had a future, but without property, they would be burdened with a husband and father who couldn’t support or provide for them. They would become the lowest of the low.
A sacred cow wandered past him. The bells on its collar clinked as it headed toward his neighbor’s field, which was filled with thriving cotton grown from traditional seeds. Mahakanta remembered the purveyor arriving at his doorstep two years earlier, catching him as he returned home after a hard day’s work. The salesman opened his satchel, showing Mahakanta charts and photos of other customers’ cotton fields that yielded 10 times the average using his new magic seeds. In addition, he touted that the magic seeds resisted pests, eliminating the need to purchase expensive pesticides. The purveyor promised the magic seeds would make Mahakanta a very wealthy man, but what the salesman did not tell him was that these seeds were not drought tolerant like the traditional ones that had been used for generations in India. And the man did not share the fact that the seeds were genetically structured to self-destruct, ensuring that Mahakanta would have to buy new seeds the following year.
So with hope for a better future, Mahakanta naively bought and planted the magic seeds, watching the green shoots emerge in the spring. However, it was not long before the plants withered in the scorching sun and succumbed to the hungry bollworms.
How Mahakanta wished he had switched back to the traditional seeds after the first failed crop, but the purveyor assured him that the dismal harvest was caused by the drought, not the magic seeds, and the next bountiful crop would more than make up for his losses. Mahakanta’s misplaced trust had been a deadly mistake. His only comfort was that he wasn’t the only one who had fallen under the spell of the magic seeds. Dozens of other farmers in his village had done the same thing.
Knowing he could not survive this second disaster, Mahakanta unscrewed the cap on a pesticide bottle, took one last look at the land of his ancestors, then gulped the toxic fluid. The acid scorched his throat as he swallowed, and the noxious fumes made him gag and cough violently. He thought it was a fitting punishment for his failure, expecting to be dead before his family came back from working in the fields.
Instead, his son found him writhing on the ground in agonizing pain. His wife ran over screaming for help. A neighbor who had found Mahakanta not long after he drank the pesticide explained what had happened. There was nothing anyone could do—the poison always took its victim.
The wife held Mahakanta’s head in her lap and wailed, tears streaking down her cheeks, “I told you the money wasn’t important! Why didn’t you listen!?”
Mahakanta did not respond. The pain made him oblivious to his surroundings. He convulsed violently, spewing red-speckled vomit all over the front of his shirt.
His wife continued to sob, rocking back and forth in utter grief.
Mahakanta was overcome with pain. Everything went dark. He felt his body become weightless. A blue mist appeared, forming into shapes that turned into human forms. He recognized a neighbor who had committed suicide a few weeks earlier. Countless numbers of spirits came forward, one after another, each a victim of crop failure caused by the magic seeds. Before Mahakanta could ask why they came, they escorted him away.